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I was also handed a plastic bag from her mother with my jersey inside, along with a mumbled apology for shoving me in the hall that day—obviously trying to cover her arse for putting her hands on a student—and another stern warning to steer clear of her daughter.
Furious over being cornered in a fucked-up and unnecessary intervention—not to mention treated like a villain for an honest mistake—I’d responded with a sharp, “No fucking problem,” before taking my jersey and stalking back to class with every intention of doing just that.
I didn’t need that kind of hassle in my life.
I didn’t need the threat of suspension hanging over my head. It messed with my plans, and there was no girl worth putting my future in jeopardy for.
Following the rules, more for my own sake than hers, I stayed away.
I didn’t speak to her, and I didn’t approach when I saw her between classes or in the lunch hall during break.
I kept a wide-ass berth of that girl and the complications that seemed to follow her.
But as pissed as I was, I still kept an eye out for her in the hallways.
Call it being overly protective of a vulnerable girl or call it something else, but I kept my ears open when it came to Shannon Lynch and shut down any shite that may be an issue, making sure she had a smooth transition into Tommen.
However, after a couple of days, it quickly became clear that she didn’t need anyone’s help.
Shannon was liked at Tommen. Teachers liked her. Students liked her. I fucking liked her.
That was the problem.
Besides, she had her own little bodyguards in the form of the two blonds that always seemed to be flanking her wherever she went.
I recognized the more protective one of the two girls as the sister of Hughie Biggs, our team’s fly half, and one of my closest friends. The other blond was the on-off girlfriend of Pierce O’Neill, another teammate of mine.
I couldn’t remember the name of Pierce’s girlfriend, only that I remembered how fucking vicious she could be with her tongue and that any lad in his right mind should keep a wide berth.
Throwing myself into my routine, I attempted to ignore and forget about Shannon, choosing to concentrate on the game and ignore all distractions around me—pussy being the most dangerous kind of distraction.
I really fucking tried.
But then one of the lads would bring her up in conversation, or she’d pass me in the hallway at school, and I was back to square one. I couldn’t understand it and tried not to think too much into it. But it didn’t stop her from coming up in every conversation I’d been involved in since her arrival at Tommen.
Lads were pricks, and age meant nothing to most of them.
Too fucking many of the eejits in my year were talking about her, thinking about her, and plotting about her, and it drove me batshit crazy.
Last week, for instance, I’d actually voiced my frustrations, telling a shocked table of classmates to cop the fuck on—that she was only fifteen. It didn’t matter to them that she was only in third year, and it bothered me that it mattered to me when it really shouldn’t. Plenty of third years scored with people from fourth, fifth, and, hell, even some sixth years.
Not me.
Never me.
Unlike the rest of the lads who had no problem fucking around with younger girls, I was fully aware of the implications that could arise. I’d had more than my fair share of lectures from coaches and former pros about the catastrophic repercussions that came from fucking with the wrong girl.
And while I wasn’t particularly proud of my behavior toward girls down through the years, I drew the line at anyone younger than me.
I knew that made me a hypocrite considering I was more than willing to go with girls older than me, but I had to be safe, dammit. I had a dream and a clear vision of what I needed to do in order to achieve it. Messing around with younger girls was dangerous.
Which is why this particular girl was pissing me off so much.
The minute I laid eyes on her, something had hit me hard in the chest. Something unfamiliar and disconcerting.
Over a month had passed and I was still reeling.
We were into February and I was still silently obsessing over Shannon like the river.
